A Painful Memory
by sevenfivetwo
Summary: When Mikado had come here to Ikebukuro, I promised myself never to go back there again, to forget the past and just continue living my life. But these memories stick to me like glue. I could never forget. I won't ever forget. No matter how hard I try.
1. Kida

"When Mikado had come here to Ikebukuro, I promised myself never to go back there again, to forget the past and just continue living my life normally. But these memories stick to me like glue. I could never forget. I won't ever forget. No matter how hard I tried." One-shot! (2nd chap in Izzy's pov)

Sorry! Sorry! So so sorry! My gawd, I haven't been here for a while! (actually just a few weeks or something, but whatever,) And I deeply apologize to the people who care! ; A ;

Anyway, to those of you who asked for a sequel for "In a Tangle of Yellow and Black"? You'll kinda have to wait, 'cuz I'm dying whenever I try to continue it. My parents look at me like some weirdo. (but it's actually pretty funny to see their faces when they see me) I was blushing just typing up THAT WORD/BODY PART that only guys have. Yeah, well, I told you before--I've never written anything lemony-smutty level before. D: Hope this (fail) fanfic will make up for it in some way? ^^"

**Disclaimer:** I do _NOT_ own Durarara!!, otherwise it'd turn it into some sort of Kida-centric thing.

Anyhoo, thanks for viewing and hope you like it!

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The door shut quietly behind me. Words froze in my throat as I looked up at the red-eyed man, Izaya. I gave him a weak scowl as he stared me down through hard scarlet eyes. The maroon orbs pierced me like ragdolls stabbed by daggers, sending a chill down my spine. I felt myself shudder in the dark cold office he owned.

"You're late, Kida-kun." he grimaced maliciously at me through the black room.

I let out a breath and didn't reply, now standing in front of his modern wooden desk while he sat leisurely on his onyx leather chair. I detested the way he spoke to me in such a casual tone. Because he wasn't being casual, the asshole. I gulped back a lump in my throat.

"Why were you late?" There was a snarl at the sound of his voice. He got up from his chair as he spoke, and walked around his desk with a few quick strides. I suddenly wished I were like Shizuo, who could throw a vending machine at anyone he wished. "Where were you?" Izaya demanded, now towering in front of me in an intimidating fashion.

If I could, I definitely would throw a vending machine right at his face--better yet, I would throw him out the window. My eyes trying desperately to look away from his glares, his blood-red irises caught my look, bringing me back into reality. I shift my feet uncomfortably.

"I-I was out..." I stammered, "O-out helping S-Saki with her groceries..." My words trailed to silence. We both knew anyone working under Izaya were to follow his game by his rules. I, on the other hand, made a huge mistake. I broke one of his rules. I took too long, too much time with her. And Izaya doesn't approve of it. Damn.

"There's lots of work to be done, Kida-kun." Izaya's eyes flashed like a bright city light, but his voice remained low. "People who don't follow my orders and loaf around, face the consequences."

"I-I know. I'm sorry. It won't happen again--"

He slapped me so hard and fast, tears came to my eyes. I blinked them back even as he grabbed my arm. His fingers seeped through my white sweatshirt and dug into my skin. I bit back a wince. "People who don't work see my bad side. But _you_. You've _already_ seen my bad side." He abruptly let go of my arm.

"And you don't want to see that side of me again, do you?" he darkly tormented.

I said nothing. I feared any wrong word might just make the consequence worse. What he did - and still does - to me is bad enough.

"Five lashes as punishment, Masaomi."

I knew better than to protest. Protesting would only make the informant angrier. Instead, I turned around, fell to my knees, lifted my hoodie, and bowed my head against the pain I knew would come. It was only five lashes anyway. Silently Izaya drew his belt.

He whipped his belt at me and the first blow hit--I fought hard not to cry out. The velvet stung, but it wasn't all that bad. The second broke skin and sent stabs of pain down my back. I bit my lip and tasted copper.

Faintly, I heard him whisper angry words about how stupid I am, cursing me for all the "wrong-doing's" I have done and how many times I have done so as he continued to strike. He muttered about Saki, and how he swore to keep away from her if I followed his directions. Which I stupidly didn't. Three, I counted. Four. With the fifth hit, a sob burst from my lips.

"Weak," Izaya spat as he tied his belt back in place. "You'd have died by yourself, Masaomi. Remember that."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

"Now pull yourself together and come join me at Namie's place. No more delays."

I listened as his deliberate steps crossed the room and the door firmly shut behind him. Once he was out of sight, the threatening tears at the corners of my eyes spilled without my permission. I let my limping body sink to the floor, trembling from the cold or the pain, I don't know. The cool air in the atmosphere of his room brushed me on the back. It was rough against my skin.

I gagged on my own tears as they fell down my face. Then I lost control and just bawled. More sobs and cries flew out of my mouth, along with a throbbing ache that came with every breath. Fresh tears flowed down my hot face every time I sucked in some air, sometimes slipping between my parted lips. I tasted salty water as I noticed the pain only seemed to grow the more I wept.

"Dammit..." I dryly cried between breaths, "Damn it!" The salty streaks of water left on my face dried up as I sulked and miserably thought at how I came to this position.

Saki Makijima. She's very important to me. I wouldn't know what I'd do if anything were ever to happen to her. But that bastard, Izaya, swore he'd only protect her if I did as I was told. He wouldn't touch her. Nothing bad would happen to her.

And we both knew I had to take that deal. But only the damn bastard knew I couldn't keep to that promise.

I supported myself on my hands and knees, eventually staggering to my feet. My weeps hushed to soft whimpers as I struggled to keep my balance, holding the edge of the asshole's desk to help myself up. My white sweatshirt fell back in place, keeping out the cool air yet at the same time itching the skin underneath. I choked a couple times before finally clearing my throat and regained my cool posture. My back pestered me to no end, but I somehow managed to stay calm about it.

I headed towards the door and barely made it outside when the pain suddenly slid up a notch and I dropped to the floor again. I reached around and touched my back. My hand came away sticky with blood.

Huh. It wasn't normally this bad. I cringed as I tried to pull the cotton away to feel the skin beneath, but cotton and blood and skin stuck together. Redness shimmered before my eyes.

_Damn_, I thought, _it really is that bad_. I guess I really _couldn't_ push myself to move. But then again, I can't stay here. Otherwise, who knows what'll happen? I strained myself once more and got on my feet. My head began to spin as I faltered forward to the door.

My hand touches the steel cold door knob. I turn it slowly and finally take a step outside the bloodied room. Breathing deeply, I limped and went on my way.

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Okay, just to get this straight, if you like this story, you can kindly favorite it. Or review. Although both is highly recommended! :D (Extra goodies: you should try reading the book, "Bones of Faerie". [Author is Janni Lee Simner] She inspired me to write this fail angst stuff. And trust me, her story is better than mine. Even though it's her first time on angst-y stuff too.) Once you're done, it'd be nice if you scroll down and answer my bonus question in your review too. If you don't mind. (It's just for fun! You don't have to if you don't want to!)

If you don't like it, the least you could do is keep away from the flaming. I would really appreciate it if you would nicely review the problem, instead. That would be just dandy. (And answer the question please~) ^^ That's okay, right?

Now for the sorta-spoiler-but-not-really-I-guess bonus question!

"Who is Saki Makijima and how is she connected to Kida and Izaya?"

Answer in the most kindred way possible in your review and we'll see what goes on afterwards! Thanks!


	2. Izaya

This is so so so different from what the anime has been telling us, hahaha. Yeah, totally goes against it. Oh well ;D

**Disclaimer:** It's called _FAN_-fic for a reason, y'know.

Thanks for viewing! Hope you like it~ (Even though it's a very rushed and uglier version...Yeah...sorry about that.)

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Black pen twirling in my hand, I took several glances at the digital clock perched on the desk in front of me. 9:11. Eleven minutes late. I snort and tightly grip onto the pen, suddenly halting the spins that made two to three 360's at a time.

9:12. The boy is tardy. _Ooh, that's not good._

The lights were off, making it completely dark in my office. So pitch black, - not that I'm complaining, - I almost didn't notice the door cracking open. A full head of blonde hair popped up into my black room, contrasting it very nicely. I watched the blonde carefully. He shuts the door quietly, taking as long as he could as it doesn't make a peep, and closes.

"You're late, Kida-kun." I frowned, staring hard to find his face expression. But he kept a pretty decent poker-face. I could barely tell what he was thinking. Ha. Same old Kida-kun. Oh, how I wish you didn't have to break my rules.

Then he frowns too, except, I could tell from the look on his face that the frown showed despise. My eyes swiftly traveled his irises, his emotions. I tried to examine him some more, but I heard him growl. I look away and grimace as he shivers and shrugs his shoulders, as if to shake off the cold in my office that I've grown long accustomed to. It cooled my anger down. For now.

"Why were you late?" I asked with a snarl at the back of my throat, getting up from my big leather chair.

Taking long strides around my desk in a flash, I towered over him from a meter away. Kida Masaomi-kun looked as though he wished to toss a vending machine at me. I saw deep in his serious honey eyes how he hated me. Kind of like Shizu-chan - no, no, no, not Kida-kun. _He wouldn't. _Well, even if he would, I won't let him.

"Where were you?" I demanded, red eyes narrowing.

The blonde swallows. I watched his amber eyes rolling from one side of the room to the other. He was shifting his feet uncomfortably; I could feel his nervous vibes and awkward tension. _Kida Masaomi, I have no time for this._

"I-I was out..." he stammered, "O-out helping S-Saki with her groceries..." His words trailed off into silence. From that moment on, I knew that he knew he was in trouble. He should have known better. If he had, I wouldn't have to do this. How that makes me so mad is just incredible. 'Cause really, couldn't he have just listened?

"There's lots of work to be done, Kida-kun." I said, "People who don't follow my orders and loaf around, face the consequences." My voice remained low, and my eyes glinted. From the corner of my eyes, I saw Kida-kun stare at his shoes.

He hesitates before speaking. _Ugh. Calm down. You may be angry, but __you can control it. Snapping isn't your style, Izaya._

"I-I know. I'm sorry. It won't happen again-"

I snapped.

A split second later, a red mark was left on his usually clean soft skin. _It was automatic!_ He looked so pitiful and so dumbfounded, sad eyes and quiet look, you needed to. _Ahhh!_ I need to vent it all out. But instead, my body refused to cooperate. I swiftly grappled his slender arm. _Tightly_. I caught him wince at my snatch, his eyes narrowed and his mouth pointed down. The atmosphere intensified. "People who don't work see my bad side. But _you_. You've _already_ seen my bad side." Masaomi looked up at me with pleading eyes. I release my hold on him with not much of a care.

"And you don't want to see that side of me again, do you?"

He stayed silent.

"Five lashes as punishment, Masaomi." I scowled.

He was obedient to my command and complied, silent. The blonde fell to his knees with his back turned and sweater lifted. _That's a good boy._ On his skin, under his shirt, there were bruises. Red stripes and stains that looked permanent and very painful. Just goes to show what would happen if people don't listen.

I unbuckled my belt. Masaomi quivered a little.

I didn't know how often I lashed him. And I didn't really care, just as long as he followed orders. _Which he did not._

My hand pulled my velvet belt out of its sockets. I brought the leather strip over my head for a whipping on the blonde's back. Some conscious thought at the back of my head told me to stop right when I was in position, but I pushed the idea aside and struck.

One.

A brand new mark on his already abused back. Fortunately for him, it didn't break through his skin. I pulled back for another lash.

Two.

This one broke him. He inched that little bit forward in discomfort as the blood oozed out of the fresh cut. The drops weren't the size of even a pea, but the next one will change that. I drew back once more.

Three.

Quiet, angry words happened to escape my mouth while my eyes traced over his giant cuts. The blood was definitely noticeable, - because actually, it was as sticky as hell. My belt almost stuck onto his bruises; good thing I tugged it off before it could cause a bigger injury on the boy cowering in front of me. I could tell he was stifling down his whimpers. But I paid no mind to them and quickly drew back to whip him.

Four.

His body definitely shook at contact, the blood dripping from more than one spot. It must have ached to have that big of a wound on the line of his spine. I silently sighed and bring my arm, gripping onto the belt, up.

I looked down at him.

The injury was unbearable to look at. It was horrible. Even when some of the blood had dried up, the fresh blood happened to slide over the dried blood, making it sticky and warm and uncomfortable. I decided I didn't want to think of his wounds anymore. So shaking him out of my thoughts, I brace myself.

Five.

"Ngh!" A small sob burst from his squeezed-shut lips. My eyes narrowed.

"Weak," I spat as I tied my belt back in place. He was quiet, looking up at me with his same pleading eyes. "You'd have died by yourself, Masaomi. Remember that."

He nods, glancing saddeningly back down at the hardwood floor.

I stared long and hard at him one more time before turning to grab my phone I had left on my desk.

"Now pull yourself together and come join me at Namie's place. No more delays." I ordered, checking the clock on my phone with a swift glimpse.

9:54.

I said no more to the shivering boy and turn on my heel. My strides made a huge noise in the silent room, which hadn't been so quiet a couple of minutes before.

Exiting my office, I hear him begin to weep.

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Review, anyone?

(Sorry for the OOC-ness of them both. I know Izaya's not a softie at heart and Kida's not a baby like that. I know. I suck. D:)

Bonus Question:

"Anyone know what Kida's past was like? When he was still a child, running around with Mikado? (Just curious. Didn't seem like anyone knew, so...)"


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